Length: about 510 words
Disclaimer: "Verdammt, HP gehört JKR und nicht mir!" - Translation: "Shite, HP belongs to JKR and not me!" - With this I do not only cover the disclaimer part but I can also teach you to talk (and curse) in German. Any questions? ;-)
Author's Notes: I somehow like the title and therefore the topic of this chapter. As always, have fun with reading...
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3. Taste #2 – Options
Christmas. Hateful. Because everything on Christmas seemed to be happy and cheery and joyful and merry… It was not that he held anything against the people that liked Christmas, not really. It was the time of year when they could be with the ones they loved and that was nothing despiteful, not at all. But whenever Christmas came around he began to wonder and think about the ones he loved. It seemed that there were none and if and when there were, then he always tended to push them as far away as possible, so that in the end everything was back to normal. So that in the end he was alone again.
This Christmas was nothing different. Or at least, he had thought that until on Christmas Eve she came hurrying towards him, her face set and determined. He feared for a moment that she would slap him across his face since the entrance hall was empty and it might be the perfect occasion for her and it was not as if he didn't deserve it, of course. Yet, it made him consider his options quite anxiously: fight or flight?
It was a second before he realised that he was standing under the mistletoe that Molly had hung up earlier. So before he could even be surprised at all, she had, instead of leaving the shape of her hand on his cheek, left the taste of her lips on his. Confusingly, it was everything he could have wished for, even more than the reestablishment of their friendship. Because in any case, they weren't friends anymore and so there was nothing friendly at all in his longing when he pulled her into a second kiss.
And he wanted more.
He wanted to pin her against the wall, right here, right now, and take her there. But he knew very well that that was not an option and even if it was, he wouldn't get to choose it. It was not an option for him to choose to love this woman. So quite certainly, when she whispered his name against his lips tentatively and so full of love, his conscience jumped back into action, bringing a whole sack of guilt with it. He retreated and all he could say was "Don't", although he really meant a thousand things: Don't kiss me. Don't love me. Don't make me love you in return. Please don't hate me for this…
He knew from the look on her face that she understood, even though she seemed determined not to believe. But by the time she told him that she couldn't stop, he had already decided and took the option he would always take in these situations. The option that he strongly believed was the only one he could ever take because he shouldn't fool himself any longer and think that there was any other option left for him. The option that came with the cruellest of feelings in ones stomach and the filthiest of tastes in ones mouth. The option that quite simply said: flight.
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Remus had options. And he chose (although admitted, I don't think he made the best decision). However, I'm sorry to have to tell you that you are not granted the luxury of options. You must leave a comment - now! (I'm trying mind control here; I wonder if it works via internet...?)
Now I'd like to give you a little explanation of the topic and how I came to choose it (see, I had options when writing), but for that first some catching up on human biology is required (don't moan, it won't be much). There is a reaction of the human body (triggered by the sympathetic nervous system) called the fight-or-flight-response. I gave a talk once in school about both the SNS and the PSNS (parasympathetic nervous system) and while thinking about the content of this chapter, I remembered this all of a sudden and thought that it would match quite well to the story. As a result, I developed the topic of fight-or-flight and thus the general topic of Remus having the choice between options (quite contrary ones, I must say). And in the end, I had my chapter done and was even proud of myself for it seems that I do have the ability of being attentive at times and actually reproduce the information that was so cruelly shoved into my poor overworked brain at school. Not that that happenes very often...
Therefore: Never give up the fight (must be Tonks' motto and therefore it's mine, too); bye bye und tschüß